


Many a Soldier's Kiss Dwells on These Lips

by gaygreekgladiator (ama)



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, M/M, OT3, Other, PTSD, Permanent Injury, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 12:03:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ama/pseuds/gaygreekgladiator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castus and Nasir care for Agron in the aftermath of "The Dead and the Dying." This work contains POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING material, so please make sure to read the additional tags.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Many a Soldier's Kiss Dwells on These Lips

**Author's Note:**

  * For [canadasuperhero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/canadasuperhero/gifts).



> For canadiansuperhero, who requested Agron/Nasir/Castus "Nurse Me." The title is from Walt Whitman's poem "The Wound-Dresser."

They carried him back to their tent together, silently laid him on the bedroll, and knelt. Agron’s breath came out in a heavy sigh, and Nasir kissed him on the cheek. Castus could tell by the way Agron held his jaw that he had broken teeth; he pressed his lips to Agron’s forehead to avoid causing pain.

“I am no suckling babe,” he grumbled.

“Nor are you Zeus reigning from above,” Castus said lightly. “Us mortals need tender treatment on occasion.”

He could tell that Nasir was too upset to speak much; the Syrian was already turning his attention to Agron’s wounds. Castus kept up a stream of easy conversation as the two of them poured water on fresh strips of cloth, and carefully cleaned the deep gashes on his side and his shoulder. Agron chuckled occasionally, but he was tired and quiet.

After those wounds were treated, Castus and Nasir sat back on their heels and looked at each other. Nasir looked worried. Castus leaned over and kissed him, hoping to convey some measure of confidence in him, and Agron made a noise of protest.

“Stubborn fool,” Castus murmured. “How many teeth did you lose?”

“One,” he said, grimacing. And two cracked, at least, Castus though grimly. But still, he pressed a careful kiss to the other side of Agron’s mouth, and nipped softly at his ear.

“There—are you satisfied? Now will you allow us to work without complaint?”

“Nasir?” Agron asked softly.

Nasir met his gaze with a wavering smile. His lips trailed lazily over Agron’s jaw, and pressed against the hollow of his throat. Somewhere along the way, he had lost the necklaces. Castus swallowed thickly. Finally, Nasir sat back and reached for Agron’s hand.

Immediately, Agron’s fingers tried to close and hide his palm; the movement drew a harsh breath from his lips, and he moved his arm away.

“Agron,” Nasir sighed.

“I desire sleep.”

“A thing that will come easier when you have been properly treated.”

Agron swallowed and looked away from him—towards Castus. Castus’s heart seized in his chest. He had never seen such fear on a gladiator’s face. He carded his fingers through Agron’s hair and spoke in a low, soothing voice.

“Pain means that there is a possibility it will heal. Nasir will aid in that. Now, cease to growl at him, or our wild Cerebus will bite back, and you cannot afford to lose more blood.”

Agron laughed weakly and turned to look at Nasir again. Slowly, he nodded. Nasir kissed him on the lips, his touch as light as possible, and then looked away. He smoothed out the fingers of Agron’s right hand, and spoke to Castus without looking up.

“Vinegar.”

There was not much they could do other than work to prevent infection. By the light of the lamp, Nasir carefully cleaned the wound, removed splinters, and applied fresh bandages. Agron tried to keep silent, but he couldn’t clench his jaw without pain, so often moans escaped like the whines of a wounded dog. The sound distressed Nasir, though he tried to hide it; by the time he finished working on Agron’s right hand, tears clouded his eyes. Castus silently went to work on the left hand.

“Rest,” he ordered, and without protest, Nasir lay down at Agron’s side, his forehead resting against Agron’s shoulder. He had not had a proper night’s sleep since the German’s departure. Castus worked slowly to prevent error, and by the time he finished, Nasir was asleep.

“Castus…”

“I did my best,” he said simply. “He ate when forced, tried to sleep. He’s even more stubborn than you are.”

“Gratitude. For Nasir and—me.”

Castus doubted that Agron had slept well, either, for his words were mumbled and confused. He smiled and smoothed Agron’s hair again, and Agron grinned weakly. His eyes fell shut as Castus bandaged his hands. He was sleeping soundly within moments. Castus looked at him, and Nasir by his side, and breathed heavily.

He had not expected this. He had not _wanted_ this. To love, to be loved—it was a greater responsibility than he had ever thought to attain. He rubbed the side of his face tiredly, ignoring the thin streaks of Agron’s blood on his skin, and stood. He needed air.

Castus opened the flap of the tent and stood there for a moment, allowing the wind to cool his face. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that he was on the deck of the ship, amongst the creaking of the sails and the snores of his fellow crew. It had been difficult to find solitude, then. The closest he could get was at night, when only the guard remained awake, and he tilted his face to the stars.

Things had changed. He was no longer a pirate; he was a rebel, as surely as any of them were. He mourned when they mourned, cheered when they cheered, fought when they fought. He no longer traveled to the large cities he had once known and loved. The moments he once spent alone were now spent with Agron and Nasir by his side.

And he loved it. It was terrifying, but he was… braver than he had thought he was. What had they done to him? he thought with a laugh, looking over his shoulder at Nasir and Agron sleeping peacefully. Gods. Castus wanted a drink, desperately. But what he _needed_ was to lie down, beside his lovers, and sleep undisturbed until morning. He turned back to the tent, and went to bed.


End file.
